


Clockwork

by Marshmellowtoast



Series: Ticking [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-09-21 20:06:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9564284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marshmellowtoast/pseuds/Marshmellowtoast
Summary: Gabriel is a clockmaker.





	1. Chapter 1

Gabriel is a clockmaker. He was a great clockmaker. Skilled enough that he could repair even the most complex of devices given only a day. Gears and cogs had always clicked well in his mind, their paths and problems easy to discern. People though, they had never really been much of his area. His fellow “clockwork engineers” hated him for his genius, and his customers rarely attempted to interact with him after the first time, only telling him what he needed before fleeing. 

 

His most recent customer has tipped the very fine line of his patience. It's the third time this month they have been back to his shop, bringing in their solider turned servant in for a major repair. The third time it happened he figured that the damage being done to it was intentional. While he wasn't very social, it did happen occasionally that a patron will get overly attached and start trying to flirt. He's never seen someone who would damage such fine machine to get his attention, and the amount of repairs on it tell their own story. 

 

Today it's a smashed knee unit, and he can see from the other work done that this isn't the first time it's happened. Leaving the soldier where it's perched on a bench, he walks back to the owner and explains that the unit will need a complete replacement, and it will take four days at most. They don't even seem to register the information, asking about his plans for the weekend instead. He doesn't pay the question any attention, just writes up a short bill and gets back to work. 

 

The soldier is sitting just where he left him, staring at it's smashed knee. He can see other marks on it, partially covered by panels and wires, that look like more damage, but all of that will have to come later. The knee is the most pressing issue, fractured enough that the soldier had a difficult time getting here. Honestly, he's not sure why it had to walked in the first place, would have been faster to have it driven here. Judging by the bags of shit at the front of his store, the owner had been using it to carry their shopping. 

 

The owner is still trying to talk to him from the front of the shop, commenting on various knick knacks while they wait for their driver. He flicks on the radio and makes his way to the bench, stepping up to the soldier. 

 

“You ready for me to take a look at that?” He asks. 

 

It looks up, not quite meeting his eyes, and nods, moving it's hands out of the way. Gabe clicks his tongue at the lack of response, and sets to work. It takes hours to remove the old unit and he briefly wonders why he didn't just take the leg and give it a loaner replacement. Putting the old unit to the side, he gets to work on cleaning out the surrounding area. 

 

“You really are a quiet one aren't you? Three visits and you haven't made a peep.” He chuckles, glancing at its mask briefly. It doesn't answer, just taps its neck instead. 

 

All clockworks make noise due to their mechanical nature, but most have a way to communicate manipulating their gears harmlessly to click and chirp. Curiosity piqued he removes the panel it tapped, and looks at the voice box. The soldier must have been an elite one, because it has a piece complex enough to allow for actual speech. They are usually only in active military units, so he's only seen a handful. This one though, is rusted to all hell, a dried reddish stain sticking part of the unit together. Slob of an owner must never have maintained it, and even gone so far as to drench it in wine. 

 

“That's going to have to come out.” He says, turning to grab the tools he'll need for the removal. “Looks like we caught it before any real damage could be done to the surrounding area, but I won't really know until I've gotten it out.” 

 

When he turns back, the soldier is covering it's neck, refusing to move its hands for him to even look at the voice box again. 

 

“I'm not going to steal it.” He says, prying it's hands away. “But it needs to come out or your head will rot off. There's no point in fixing your knee if that happens, so keep your hands down.” 

It listen to him, a hint of regret along its form, planting its hands at it's sides and tilting it's head this way and that with his prodding. Removing that eats the rest of his day, and when he finally glances at the time he curses himself. 

 

“What do you do for nightly maintenance? I'd like to get it done now so I have time to pretend to eat before I sleep.” He asks, stifling a yawn. 

 

He expects gestures to a few squeaky joints and loose joints that need tightening, but the soldier gives him nothing. 

 

“You don’t do any maintenance?” 

 

A small shake of it's head. 

 

“Is it that or you don't get any?” 

 

A nod. 

 

“Fuck.” He wants to kick out the bastard’s knee and see how much he likes being left to rot. Taking a calming breath, he grabs paper and a pencil, handing them to the soldier. “Okay, here. I need you to write me a list of all the shit on you that isn't working. I'll take a look at everything in the morning.” 

 

He leaves the light on when he leaves, the soldier probably doesn't need it to see, but for all he knows, it's eyes aren't even working properly. 

 

In the morning, he finds the soldier where he left him, with two full sheets of mistimed gears, broken bits, and unoiled joints. 

 

“Has this fucker done anything except major repair? Or even given you stuff to do it yourself?”

 

It picks up a remaining sheet and jots a quick ‘no’ in cursive. 

 

“Your owner is a fucking idiot. Give me the lists, we’ll work from the top down. Fuck what they want, you’re going to fall apart if this shit isn't done.” 

 

‘It may be best to only consider the minimum. My owner will not pay for any other repairs’

 

“Your owner is dumb enough to not put oil on your joints and expect you to keep running like the day they bought you.” He scoffed, scanning the list. Preoccupied with reading and collecting the supplies, he didn’t see its question for some time. 

 

‘Have you had breakfast this morning, sir?’

 

“One; don’t call me sir, my name is Gabriel. Second; you aren’t my servant why are you asking me if I’ve eaten?”

 

‘Your house is above the shop. I didn’t hear you prepare anything to eat yesterday evening or this morning. If you wish I could prepare something for you.’ 

 

“You don’t have a leg from the thigh down. As go as your balance probably is, there is no way you can stay up long enough to make anything.” He says, hoping to end the conversation. It points to a cluttered corner of his shop where a cane leans against the wall. “You aren't going to let this go are you?”

 

Its stares at him, mask impassive. Relenting seems like the fastest way to move forward so he grabs the cane and shoos it away to the kitchen. Working without it staring at him for awhile will be easier, so he gets to work cleaning the voice box. By the time it comes back down he’s moved on, setting up various piles of supplies that he will need. It sets a plate with pancakes down on a clear space and presents him with a set of cutlery. He mumbles a thanks, and pats the bench, eating while he waits for the soldier to climb up.

 

He makes it through the first page that day, ticking off little projects that won’t interfere with anything else, about to start on the next when the soldier gives him a new sheet.

 

‘You look as if you are about to fall asleep, Gabriel. It is about the time you retired yesterday.’ 

 

“Hmm? Okay. Gotta try this first though.” He says, picking up the voice box and shaking off the excess oil. Setting the box back in place takes longer than he hoped, but there is a satisfying crackle of static when it comes online. The soldier hums, the sound deep but muffled by something. There’s nothing blocking the cords, and he can see them move as the sound continues. “Any idea of on what’s causing that?” 

 

The soldier picks up its list taping the notes, mask stuck, and face plate cracked, gesturing to the fused clasps at the side and back of it’s head. Breaking them open is quick work, and he takes metal off gently so he doesn’t break whatever is underneath it. Porcelain, or something that looks like it, cracked across its mouth, nose and brow. Even through the layers of grime and wear it's features are fine, like the boy next door, frozen in time and forever handsome. 

 

“Quite the look aren't you, sweetheart?” He laughs, running a finger along the curve of it's face, trailing along the bow of it's lips. 

 

“T-t-t-than..k yo-o-ou.” It says, voice box stuttering a clicking, porcelain face moving as if it were nearly flesh. 

 

“Holy shit.” He had heard about clockwork creatures sort of like this one, a bit more magic than machine. There's no telling how deep the magic will go though, some have even been said to develop complex personalities. “Holy shit your owner is an idiot. Does that fucker even know what you are?”

 

“Y..sss” 

 

“And they still treat you like this?” Gabriel snaps, touch the edges of the cracks tentatively. They're knife marks, wrenched open to crack along the line of his face as the blade was pulled free. “Do these go deep enough to damage anything?”

 

“O-p….opti…”

 

“Optical cable?” 

 

“S”

 

“How long have you been working blind sweetheart?”

 

“N-not blind!” It says, face conveying angry even if its voice couldn't. “Lim-m-mitd not blind. No...colour. Fuzzzzzy.”

 

“Alright. It's not on the list so I won't press you about it.” He said, standing up with a protest from his spine. 

 

Gabe woke the next morning by the smell of cooking meat, and the sweet hum of music. If the noise wasn't coming from his kitchen he would have been thought he left the radio on downstairs. The soldier is at his little used oven, cooking eggs and what must be ham from his ice box. It was so foreignly domestic that he didn't want to return it, tell it's owner that it had run away and keep it as an assistant. When it turns to greet him he's sure the scene will crumble, but it doesn't, carried by the smile it gives him. He ignores the way his heart seems to skip a beat. The soldier leaves to clean up as he sets into the meal, once he’s done he stand idling in the kitchen nook. 

“You don't have to just stand over there,it’s making me nervous. Come sit down.” He said gesturing to the chair. “It sounds like you’ve been making use of the voice box.”

 

“As fully as possible.” It’s voice is substantially more clear, and Gabe doesn’t doubt that in another day it would sound human. Clear, strong, and lyrical, built to talk for hours on end, and Gabe’s sure that he would be more than happy to listen to every word. “Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome. Not going to lie, it does make my job a lot easier now that you can talk though. You can tell me what’s wrong in that sweet voice instead of writing it all out in that pretty cursive.” If it was anyone else, he’s sure that they would be blushing, the realisation that he is flirting with a machine has him doing it instead. 

 

“I'm happy that you enjoy it. It has been quite some time, and being about to communicate clearly is wonderful. Though I believe my ability to do so will be limited.” 

 

“Why's that?” He asked, stuff the last of his eggs into his mouth and carrying his plate to the sink. 

 

“My owner does not like the noise.”

Gabe feels a swell of fury at its answer, sets his plate down with enough force that it cracks along the edge and chips the bottom. He wishes there was some way he could get the authorities involved in this, so he could have the satisfaction of see the fucker behind this get punished for his crimes. In his younger days he probably would have taken justice into his own hands, waited until he could get his hands on the asshole and showed them just how all of the pain they've inflicted feels. A cool metal hand on his shoulder surprises him and he turns to see the soldier, precariously balanced on one leg, but still smiling. 

“Let's see if we can fix that leg of yours, sweetheart.” 

 

It's late evening when the soldier's owner comes around to pick it up, hours after he had called and informed them that the repairs were done. The knee unit had been a full remove and replace, requiring completely custom parts to replicate the original, and while it would have been an expensive bill in the first place, Gabe made sure to tack on extras out of spite. They paid it without a second glance, too busy with their awful attempts at flirting to notice the price and his disinterest. The soldier stepping out from the back, mask back in place, drew his attention. It moved to just behind it's owner and stopped, giving Gabriel a polite bow. They had already had a short goodbye before, but the bow left him feeling compelled to pull off that damn mask and melt it down for parts.

 

The shift in his attention clearly didn't go unnoticed by it's owner, and when Gabe looked back they looked nearly murderous. Snatching the paper from his hand quickly enough to leave a cut, they stomped out of his shop with the soldier trailing after. He watched from the front window, as they walked aways down the street and even from this distance he could faintly hear them shouting. 

 

He expects them back at some point soon, each visit has only been a little more than a month apart, but he doesn’t quite expect it to be so quick and the damage so severe. The soldier’s arm is broken, sections around the elbow pried apart, and it seems incapable of turning it’s head. There’s a clicking noise every time it tires, and it refuses to let him take the mask off of it’s face. 

“What happened?” He asked, looking over it for any more damage. The cap on its other knee has scratches on it, like someone was trying to open it up without knowing what they were doing. Some of the mechanics on the side also look damaged, similar to the way it was kicked out on the other knee. The soldier doesn’t answer him, and for a moment he thinks it’s too nervous to talk, but it motions for a pen and paper. 

 

‘I made noise.’

 

“What’d they do to your voice box? Wine again?”

 

‘And pliers’

 

The anger is back in full force, and Gabe wants to stop working, go out to the main shop and beat it’s owner within an inch of their life. Instead of that, he sets to work opening the panel on it’s throat and finishes assessing the damage, writing out his list. The wires that make up it’s voice box have been bent, twisted, and soaked in wine the pools sticky in the corners. Like someone was trying to pull them out but couldn’t put enough force behind it, and drenched it when they couldn’t accomplish the damage they wanted. With how far the cords have been pull out though, every time the soldier tries to turn it’s head they click into the mechanisms on either side. The set of bearings the lay just behind it are unharmed save for a few missing balls, without the damage to its voice box preventing movement, they would have scraped together irreparably. As it stands it will take weeks to get all the cords back into place, or a fortune to order a new model, he’s sure that they won’t take either option and doubly sure that it will never sound quite the same again. When he finishes his list he leaves the soldier where it is on the bench and takes the receipt to its owner.

 

“I gotta ask” He says, keeping his tone light and conversational. “What happened to it’s neck?”

 

“The damnedest thing, must be a tick with how old the model is. If i don’t keep an eye on it, it has this awful habit of trying to damage itself. Slamming into walls and tables, digging at it’s own joints. I can hardly leave anything sharp near it for fear of turning back to see it doing something awful. It must be a side effect of being a converted soldier, needs to find something to destroy. Isn’t that just horrible?” The smoothness of their lie makes him want to vomit, like they’ve prepared for it, even shoveled that pile of shit to someone else. 

 

“That explains somethings. I have to tell you though, the damage on it’s neck is pretty extensive. Whatever it did, it messed it up pretty badly and I'm not sure if it's going to be worth fixing. It scratched up a bearing pretty badly, and that's not something I can replace. The model is too old to buy a replacement part.”

 

“What about making one?”

 

“That's the problem with military grade hardware, they don’t release blueprints and with it already damaged their isn't a way to confirm that the part is right. It would just end up causing more damage.” 

 

“Would you be able to give it a new head entirely? I've never been fond of that one anyway, it's rather hideous.” 

 

Suppressing the urge to just beat them where they stand, Gabe puts on the sweetest smile he can. 

 

“Same problem I'm afraid. Military won't release such old parts, and it's quite the tricky thing to replace the head of any unit. Lots of tricky timing to get down perfect or poof! Up it goes. But seeing as you've been such a loyal customer so far how about we make a deal?” He said, leaning over the counter and laying his charm on as thick as possible. “How about I take it off your hands? An old unit like that, destructive tendencies, with how often it breaks down it’d be better off scrapped for parts than in service.”

 

“I don't know. It has sentimental value” 

 

“Sentiment should only go so far, fine person like you shouldn't be willing to put yourself in harm's way for a scrap of metal like that.” At the hint of blush on their cheeks, he knew he had them hook, line, and sinker. A little bartering over the price, a signature, an exchange of coins and the soldier was his. 

 

“I've been coming to this shop for awhile now and I wanted to know, Are you seeing anyone at the moment, Gabriel?” 

 

“No.” He replied, tone dripping with all of the anger he had been saving until now. “And I don't think I would even consider shaking hands with someone who even thinks that beating a sentient creature, that isn't allowed to fight back, is a decent idea. Take your money and get the fuck out. If I come back out there and you aren't gone, you better hope the only thing I do is call the guards.” 

 

Not waiting for a response, he walked back to his workshop, bill of sale in hand. He didn't think it was possible for the bell above the door to ring quite so violently, but he let out a sigh of relief when it did, glad that that mess was finally over. In the morning he would have to make some calls to the engineers around the city and have them banned from buying a new clockwork servant. No one’s deserved that kind of treatment, even if it wasn't as sentient as the soldier. 

 

“Alright sweetheart, let's get you fixed up.” He said, approaching the bench with a wide smile.

 

‘Did you really mean all that?’ 

 

“All what?” He asked, unsure of how much it had heard.

‘About my neck’ It wrote, shoulders hunched forward, nearly folding in on itself to seem smaller. ‘Is there really no way to fix it?’

 

“Sweetie, your neck is fine. Aside from the voice box and wine stains, all that's missing is a few ball bearings. In trying to hurt you that asshole actually saved your life.” He explained, reaching around to unclasp the mask and take it off. “Bearings can get popped right in after I take out the box, and the arm will be done tomorrow.” 

 

‘They will probably have my knee broken within the week as well’

 

“I sure as hell hope not. If they do I'll have more than a few words to say to them about breaking shit that isn't theirs, and a beating to deal out to make them understand just how fun it is to assault people.” 

 

‘Things that aren't theirs?’ It asked cursive growing frantic.

 

“Your right ‘thing' is kind of a hard term isn't it. You look like a ‘he' to me, but that's your choice now.” He said putting the bill of sale in the soldier's functioning hand. It brings the paper close enough read, and as it reads over the paper it relaxes, as if the string that has been keeping it upright and tense is finally snapping. There is a horrible gasping rattling sound that he can only assume is happy, as the soldier pulls him in for a hug. When he finally pulls away, it scratches out a shaky note and he swears that if it were human it would be crying. ‘’He’ will do just fine.’

_______  
Four months later

 

Gabriel wakes with a start to something dropping on top of him, making the bed creak and groan at the sudden addition. Jack's weight isn't insubstantial, but he's made enough reinforcement to know that it won't break under their combined weight ever again.

 

“Ten more minutes” Gabe begs, burrowing deeper into the heavy blanket.

 

“That's what you said ten minutes ago, and ten before that” he replied, managing to squirm this way under the blanket and press his cold chest to Gabe's back. “If you wanted to sleep longer you shouldn't have gone to bed when I suggested. Now you are twenty minutes late and your pancakes are getting cold. If I didn't know any better I would say that you didn't like them.” 

 

Twisting around in his grasp, he gave Jack a chaste kiss and sighed against his lips. His voice was almost the same, a little more gravel than lyrical, but Jack was happy with it. A new voice for a new chapter in his life helping Gabriel at the shop, and unlearning a lifetime of fears and habits. It was slow learning at first, but each day seemed easier. With properly regulated maintenance, Jack had never looked better always keen to help as first his assistant and then his partner. 

 

“I do like them.” Gabe admitted, enjoying the way Jack's chestplate warmed to his body heat. “But do you know what would make them even better?”

 

“What's that?” 

 

“If I could eat them in bed.”


	2. Side story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self indulgent drabble with some were!mccree. Because I wanted it.

Gabe noticed the him weeks ago, a thin kid, barely into his teens and his first awkward growth spurt. Probably wouldn’t have noticed at all if Jack hadn’t caught him stealing from one of the high end import shops in the market while picking up parts. Soft touch that he was, he hadn’t reported it to the shop keep, but gave the kid a warning that it better not happen again. With his mask in place, Jack cut more than enough of an imposing figure to scare most people, so he figured that would be the end of it. 

 

So when shops all over the market began to complain of missing stock, he wasn’t terribly surprised to see a kid fitting the description Jack had given him in the area, leaning against his neighbours store front. If he hadn’t know who the kid was, he probably wouldn’t have noticed that he was casing both of the stores, hat tugged down to look as if he was simply waiting for someone. From what Jack had said, the kid was a were, most likely sent out to scout with what little heightened senses he had at this age. He would only wait around for an hour at most, moving on further down the street to check out other stores, before wandering off. Again, wouldn’t have been too suspicious if he didn’t come around to do it every day or two. 

 

His patience was nearly at it’s end when the kid finally decided to come into his store and began to browse the few glass cases he had scattered around. There wasn’t much anyone could get into without a fist full of glass or a key, and even then the parts he carried were worth anything were limited enough to be numbered or unique to him. Everything else was the standard fare that could be picked up at any of the other clockwork shops in the city. Still, anything stolen would cut into his ability to work, and that he couldn’t stand for. 

 

“You looking for something in particular kid?” Asked Gabe, not moving from his spot behind the counter. While the store was relatively safe, his shop was filled to the brim with expensive tools, some of which were irreplaceable. Jack was back there tinkering with a damaged clockwork servant and full capable of guarding the space, but he didn’t want to see what would happen if someone tried to sneak up on him. 

 

“Somethin’ like that. I’ve been looking for a replacement gear for my this old watch” He said, taking a timepiece from his pocket. “Been looking for a place that could take a look at it and fix it up.”

 

“Plenty of shops that can do that kinda work. Why come here? It’s gunna cost you far more than anywhere else?” 

 

“Heard your shop was pretty unique, by comparison to others. Wanted someone who knows his work more than anyone else in the field. From what i hear, that’s you.” He said smoothly, unclipping the watch and bringing it for Gabe to inspect. Gabe took it without comment, inspecting the casing and checking it for basic faults, the thing definitly was broken, but he’d have to take it apart to tell. 

 

“Flattery won’t get you a discount if that’s what you’re hoping for. I have to open this to see what’s wrong with it.” Taking out the set of tools he kept for assessments, he went about opening it up, glancing at the kid now and then. He had begun to fidget, though whether it was from having his keepsake opened or something else he couldn't tell. “Not going to charge you for taking a look kid.” 

 

“That ain’t-” a series of clangs and curses from the back room cut him off.

 

“Wonder what’s going on back there.” He said, still calmly looking over the watch. “Everything alright Jack?”

 

“It is now. If you could come back and keep an eye on things I can get the authorities.”

 

“Sounds fine.” He said, pocketing the watch and gesturing for the kid to head into the shop first. He did, taking off his hat sheepishly, clearly not used to being caught at whatever their ploy was. 

 

Jack had caught three people, two in their teens and one that hardly looked ten. They clearly hadn’t expected Jack to be here, or put up as much of a fight as he did, and it had been their downfall. He had taken a piece of rope used for rigging larger machines, and tied the three of them together, giving the end of the rope to the clockwork in for work. Giving Gabe a brief nod, he snapped his mask into place and headed out, the lock clicking behind him. The would be thieves seem to relax as he left, shifting and clearly trying to find some play in their bonds. 

 

“Jack will be back soon with the guards, so why don’t you all tell me what you were planning?” He said, walking over to his cluttered desk, taking a seat and kicking up his feet.

 

“Fuck you old man. Not gunna sit here and have some bookworm try ta intimidate me. Bitch like you who sits at his desk all day with his head in gears can’t do shit.” One of the bound teens snapped, trying to pry the end of the rope from the clockwork. 

 

“‘A bitch like me’” reaching into a deep drawer, he pulled out a pair of ash black shotguns and let them clang heavily onto the desk. “You kids clearly didn’t do enough research before coming here did you? So, you want to try that answer again?” 

 

Much to his surprise, the kid who had been casing his shop was the one to speak up, clutching his hat to his chest like a shield. “Some sketchy motherfucker hired us.” He admitted. “Supposed to use our normal stealing as cover to get at that fancy servant you have. Seem to have come kinda bee in their bonnet over it, but they promised us enough to keep food us all well kept for awhile.”

 

“You fuckin rat!” His friend screeched, trying to kick at him with their limited range. “We could still get that damn money if you weren’t just standing there like a useless ass!” 

 

“We’re caught! There ain’t no way out of this!”

 

“If you’d just-”

 

“I’m not doing anything. Money ain’t going to do me any good if I eat a shot from one of those to those. This was a dumbass gamble in the first place.” 

 

The four of them fell silent, save from some sniffling from the youngest, as they waited for the guards. They didn’t have long to wait, bell on the door chiming to announce Jack’s return. Two guard followed him in, steel boots clanking against the hardwood nearly deafening in the silence. One went to grab the rope, while the other approached Gabe. 

 

“Your servant wouldn't tell us the full story, too frantic to get back to you. Seems to me like these four broke in and tried to steal it. That sound about right to you?” 

 

“Three. Those three that are tied up tried to take him, this kid was passing over a watch I asked him to pick up from a customer.” He said, flashing them the watch.

 

“That right?” They asked turning to the kid in question, looking him over. He was still firmly in place, trying to hide behind his hat. “Got something to hide runt?”

 

“No sir.” He said, ears pressed flat and eyes down cast in a show of submission. 

 

The guards asked a few more questions before walking the group to the front of the store, giving them a quick thanks. Turning back to the shop he found Jack glaring at the were, arms crossed in what Gabe could only call his disappoint mother pose. 

 

“I thought I told you not to steal again, Jesse. If Gabe hadn't done what he did, creator knows why, you would have been sent to jail.” 

 

“I wasn't stealing I was just-” 

 

“Acting as a distraction for the real thieves.” Gabe cut in, taking a seat at his desk and putting away his guns. “Not much different in the eyes of the law.”

 

“Then why'd you stop them from taking me too? If I'm just as bad as any of them.”

 

“I don't think any of them are ‘bad’, in a bad place and doing what they can to live, sure. But not bad. Don’t think you’re bad either. Smart enough to act as bait, and realize when you are in a situation you can’t win. Your friend didn’t take their eyes off my guns, and I’m sure that if they were in your place they wouldn’t have hesitated to grab for them.”

 

“Sir? Can I have my watch back before I go? All things aside it’s pretty important to me” Shuffling in place, he really looked like a child waiting to be dismissed. 

 

“No.”

 

“No?”

 

“I’ll be fixed tomorrow, you can pick it up then. If you can’t pay for it I’m sure there is work around here that you can do.” 

 

“I-isn’t that a bit too much trust? I just tried to steal from you.”

 

“You did. But Jack thought you were worth the chance, and you just burned a bridge with your friends there, so you’re probably going to need something else to do. So, your watch will be fixed tomorrow, you can pay for it in coin or work.”


	3. TLC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Gift for a dedicated reader on tumblr

Jack didn't necessarily sleep. He understood rest and the need for it in others, only needed to make sure that his core was intact. The army had been a constant blur of tasks, if he wasn't giving a press release, or on the ground meeting people, there were always little things for him to be doing. Maintenance checks were never long, but they were thorough and a chance to enjoy a moment of stillness while he was worked on. 

 

With his previous owner he had an abundance of time, but no freedom to use it. Outside of acting as a valet, and maid, he was usually assigned a spot to stand and wait. Moving from the allowed spot didn't go over terribly well and so it quickly became routine to nearly shut down. He had learned to do what maintainance he could by himself without any tools and only asked for help when it was impossible for him to fix. 

 

Gabe was different. He was different in a lot of ways, giving him the freedom to do as he wished outside of work hours. Jack took to doing what he was used to to keep himself busy, cleaning, cooking and organising. Gabe had tried to wave him off at first, telling him that there were other things that he could spend his time on that would be far more interesting. It took more than a month and a completely reorganized shop for him to start looking for other things to do. Building small things with spare parts, jigs to make work faster for Gabe or little bobbles like watches to pass the time. 

 

Reading came up when he began to get more curious about the function of other clockworks. Gabe gave him a stack of books to look over in his spare time, promising to answer any of his questions. It spiralled from there, Gabe's technical library too small to last more than a week. There were a few bookstores throughout the market and he browsed them as often as possible, making a list of what he wanted to read. 

 

It didn't take long for Gabe to notice, cursing himself before digging through his coin purse and passing him a handful of coins with an apology. 

 

“I should have started you on a proper payroll when you started. Sorry, I'll figure out the back pay and get that to you.” 

 

Without the need to buy tools for himself, he quickly began to acquire books, keeping them stacked neatly in his area. He came to find rest for the first time when he was reading losing chunks of time for the first time in his existence. Gabe would often snap him out of these stints, grabbing his attention so they could start the work day. 

 

This happened to be a day where Gabe did not come to get him. He snapped out of his focus to the sound of birds chirping and the sun already high in the sky. Flustered at having missed so much time, he set down his book and hastily made his way downstairs to the shop.

 

The apology he had been preparing died when he saw that the shop was still in the state it had been the night before, tools still neatly packed away. Gabe was at his desk, working at a dwindling stack of papers, apparently checking over receipts. 

 

“Didn't know how long you were going to be stuck in that book, seemed like a good time to get ahead on some things.” He chuckled setting the paper he was working on back in the stack. “Got a little bit further a head than planned but there's nothing wrong with that. You ready?” 

 

“Ready for what? Why's the shop closed?”

 

“The shop is closed” Gabe said, making his way to the front of the shop. “because we are going out. There have been some things for your maintenance that I have been neglecting and I want to make it up to you.” 

 

Jack followed after him, out the door and into the bustling market, running through a list of his regular upkeep and finding nothing a miss. Asking would have made it easier, but it was clear that Gabe had kept this a secret on purpose, the cool and collected expression he had ruined a little by the jaunty bounce in his step. The trip led them to a section of the market that he rarely visited, home to the more magical shops that sold all kinds of potions and regents. They entered an apothecary stuffed to the gills with more things in it than he could count, each container busting with herbs. Jack couldn't help stopping to look at everything, trying to take in as much of the shop as he could, letting Gabe wander to the counter by himself. He had managed to find a few familiar regents they kept in their own shop, when Gabe called him to the counter. 

 

“Jack, this is Ana, the most talented practitioner in the market. As you've probably guessed she supplies us with our natural ingredients, as well as half the markets, and she is also the only person I trust to not fuck up my work.” 

 

“More likely that I am the only one willing to put up with your cheek, Gabriel.” She extended a hand, Jack shook it hesitantly, still unused to being greeted. “ It's a pleasure to meet you Jack, Gabriel has told me much about you. The first time you came to his shop came here, frustrated and nearly steaming at the ears. I'm happy to see that his plans all bore fruit.” 

 

If it was possible Jack would have been flushed to his ears. He had guessed that Gabe had been concerned for him, but hadn't thought it went quite that far. 

 

“Still” She said, lifting up the counter top gate and gesturing for him to follow. “It has taken him far too long to bring you here. Please, come take a seat I'd like to take a look at your face and core if that's alright.” 

 

“His core is fine. I checked it over myself.” Gabe said, he was about to follow behind the counter where Jack sat, but Ana waved him away. 

 

“While I do trust your work Gabriel, I do not trust military engineers. They have an awful habit of cutting corners. May I open your chest plate?” She waited for his nod before continuing, taking off the guard plates with deft fingers. 

 

Beneath a case of protective glass sat the brass orb that acted as his core, the soft blue runes along it's surface kept him charged with magic. The case around it had protected him many times throughout the years, both in combat and his more recent struggles. It had seen better days though, the main shell of glass chipped and scratched beyond repair. Ana tsked, turning around to rifle through her tools and come back with the speciality one to open the case. She took her time looking it over once the case was open, and each passing second made him more nervous, unused to being open for so long. 

 

After what felt like hours of watching it slowly turn, she closed the the case with a huff. 

 

“His core is undamaged, but the casing will need to be changed. I could hardly see anything past the damage on it, and there is a stress fracture beginning to form from repeated strikes to the same place.”

 

“I'll pay for whatever needs to be done.” Gabe said, anger clear in his voice. 

 

“I could pay for it with my wage. I don't have much to use it on honestly.” He added. 

 

“I won't charge either of you for that. It is imperative that it be fixed or you may have a serious malfunction coming. No, the only thing that will cost Gabe anything today is this next part.” Holding out a hand she gestured for him to take off his mask. As carefully as possible, he removed the copper shield, trying to disturb the porcelain of his face as little as possible. Ana took just as long inspecting the gouges in his face, and Jack had to fight to keep still under her intense scrutiny. 

 

Without a word she began to wander about the shop, collecting tools and herbs, using a mortar and pestle to grind them. 

“This will not take long, but there will be a mark where the material fuses again.” With a fine tipped knife she began to carefully fill the gaps with paste. “It will be just as strong as the original, and inseparable from it as well.” She took to smoothing it after, and when she was finally satisfied, grabbed a small potion from the collection beside them. “This may sting a little, but the feeling will pass quickly.”

 

Before he could ask, there was a sharp pinch across is his normally unfeeling face. He jerked back, trying to lift his hand to touch the spot, but Ana caught them in time to stop him. 

 

“Do not touch, it will make the paste set unevenly and then you will be stuck with the smear forever.” The pinching faded quickly, replaced with a dull sensation of weight. He could feel his mouth stretched into a grimace, faux eyebrows furrowed, in pain and confusion. 

 

“How long will I be able to feel my face like this?” 

 

“Depends, do you like it?”

 

“It feels a little weird.” He admitted, tracing a finger along his lips. “I don't dislike it. It's just...new? And tingly?”

 

“Then we will give you some time to decide if you like it. It is a side effect of the potion, but it can be made permanent.” Turning to Gabe, she gave him an unimpressed look. “See? No so much work that you need have put it off for a month.” 

 

Gabe opened his mouth to protest, but Ana had already moved on, opening the counter again and ushering Jack out. She wrote out a list of suggested care instructions, and passed it to him weaseling out a promise for him to come visit her sometime soon as she walked them out. 

 

Jack spent the walk back to their shop poking and prodding his face, pulling and pinching his cheeks.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](marsh-mellow-toast.tumblr.com), let me know if i missed any tags.


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